Happenings
by Usher
Summary: Just a short short...


They say that when a person is about to die, their lives pass before their eyes.

Standing by the desk in his study/command centre, still wearing his charred uniform, Jeff Tracy knew that idiom wasn't exactly right; When your child is about to die, their lives pass before _your_ eyes.

First words

First steps

The first time they rode a bicycle without training wheels

The first time they crashed a bicycle without training wheels

Their first day at school

First crush

First date

The time they were caught climbing through their bedroom window at three in the morning…

With not quite steady hands, he unzipped the front of his uniform and shrugged off the jacket, ignoring the flakes of soot and charred material that fell to the floor. Behind him, soft footfalls heralded the arrival of his sons, and he left his usual chair empty; instead opting to ease slowly into a soft leather armchair in the corner, letting the padding envelop his tired muscles, providing a small measure of comfort.

Kyrano watched from the door to the kitchen as they trudged across the living space, and he arrived at the command centre just in time to see them sit heavily onto the couch and chair near their father, all looking like puppets whose strings had just been cut.

Lines were etched into the veil of soot that covered their skin around their eyes and mouth, and Kyrano was shocked to see that more than one of them had a faint line or two down their cheeks where moisture had washed away the darkness.

"Mr. Tracy?" He asked falteringly, and Jeff finally looked up from his feet, fixing Kyrano with a tired smile.

"It's ok, Kyrano. Everything is ok…though I think we could all do with a very large cup of coffee…"

On a stool beside him, Alan sat leaning against the armchair, his eyes dazed and his uniform in a worse state than his fathers, and a cough echoed through the room every few breaths he took. He loosely held a mask to his face, enjoying the oxygen as it flowed into his lungs, easing the tightness in his chest. Feeling the cool material beneath his cheek was a blessing, and he sighed softly as Virgil reached out and gently squeezed his shoulder.

Seeing the looks on their faces, he was filled with worry, and for the second time since arriving at the room, found himself completing a head-count. His worry grew when he realised there were only 4 heads, not 5.

"What happened?"

The dazed look faded slightly from Alan's eyes and he glanced up at the father of the girl he loved. "Somebody in Indiana just learned a valuable lesson; it's a really bad idea to store fuel barrels next to chemical barrels that are next to a furnace. It's even worse when it's at a site where a train filled with combustible materials derailed, ploughing into a warehouse…which is also full of combustible chemicals and they all start to go on fire and explode."

Virgil nodded tiredly as Gordon groaned and got to his feet to answer the chirping that heralded Thunderbird 5 trying to contact them. "And you know, sometimes there are guard dogs at a rescue site." He mused quietly, and Alan closed his eyes firmly.

"And sometimes the dogs chase you…" the blonde murmured, keeping his eyes closed. "Around and around and around until you aren't sure which warehouse is which and what's going to go up in flames. And then you find yourself climbing over a chain-link fence to get away from them, with a guard dog hanging from the leg of your pants. And when you get to the other side you realise that you are now surrounded by barrels and barrels of oil…and the dog won't let go of you …"

"And then you get a frantic radio call and in the background is the sound of dogs barking and throwing themselves at the fence to get in…and your brother sounds worried." John added from the large screen behind the desk. "And he tells you what is happening and asks how the hell he can get out of the mess he's in…and then he suddenly stops responding to you."

"And then someone calls you from space to tell you he's lost contact with your youngest son just after something goes up in a ball of fire." Jeff added quietly, his head tilting tiredly to the side. "And when you go looking for him, you stumble across the same dogs…and they chase you around and around and around until you end up climbing over a chain link fence that has yet another dog on the far side; one which is currently standing on top of your youngest son, drooling and growling."

Alan nodded sagely. "Of course, the next explosion sets fire to the warehouse you are in." he added, finally opening his eyes. "The dog that's on you runs off, but the others are still on the other side of the fence…waiting. So you have no other choice but to go through the burning building. Of course, since you were only doing recon, you don't have any breathing apparatus, only your normal face mask so you're walking through thick smoke trying to buddy breathe with your father…"

"And then you stumble and lose your grip on the back of his uniform." Jeff continued, his voice as conversational as the others, but with a slight shake. "And you can't see him through the smoke and the flames…you keep calling his name, but there's no answer. And when you get to the middle of the building, you find he's trapped on a platform with the dog, surrounded by a sea of burning oil…and you know that his uniform won't protect him forever and the platform he is standing on is catching fire…and that it's closed in around you. And you're trapped."

Virgil sighed and massaged the back of his neck tiredly. "You go looking for them when you realise they are missing…and when you find the right building you realise that your father and brother are going to die if you don't do something…but there's nothing you can do. The flames are around their feet and they're shouting for help…but there is literally nothing you can do. So you run out to find something…anything that could help…and then the others arrive with flame retardant canisters and throw them in the middle of everything and put out the flames."

Hunched over in the command chair, Gordon clenched and unclenched his fists. "And when the haze and smoke begins to clear…you see your dad on his knees, looking like he'd just been sucker punched. And when you look at where he's looking, you realise that someone's on the ground and they aren't moving. What should be blue material is charred black. And you know what temperature it's supposed to be resistant to…it shouldn't be black. And he's not moving."

"And when you wake up, you realise that there's something licking your face and that there's a lot of sharp, sharp teeth right in front of your eyes …and the dog that was trying to kill you is now licking you…" Alan sounded bemused and shook his head ruefully.

"You think he's badly hurt"

"And you get him back to Thunderbird 2 and you realise that he's not even inhaled that much smoke…"

"And the damned dog won't go away."

"And you end up bringing it home with you." Jeff added ruefully.

Kyrano breathed out a sigh of relief. "Then Master Scott is…?"

"Is giving the dog a bath – he snuck into Thunderbird 1 while we were preparing to leave." Jeff finally smiled grudgingly. "Once Scott picked Alan up, the dog wouldn't leave his side either. We only realised when we were half way home."

XXXxxxXXX

From the doorway into the med-lab Onaha watched Virgil hover over the diagnostic med-bed that Alan had been placed in for the night. She felt something brush by her side and was surprised to see a sleek black Rottweiler slink past her and make a beeline straight for Alan who was half-dozing under his father's watchful eye.

When he felt the soft fur under his fingers, Jeff smiled and rested his hand on top of the dogs head. "Good boy…Alan, John contacted the security company for that industrial park …they said we can keep the dog-?"

"He can stay or go, dad. I don't mind either way so long as it doesn't try to eat me again." Alan replied lethargically, his voice muffled by the oxygen mask Virgil insisted he still wear.

"You can name him." A freshly scrubbed Scott groused from his seat on the far side of the bed.

"He loves you too." Alan retorted, his eyes sliding closed again. "Doesn't he have a collar?"

Scott blinked and nodded, coming around the bed to look at the fire-cracked leather. "You're right…there's a name on it." he started to snigger and shook his head. "Muffin…they called a Rottweiler Muffin!"

"Muffin is a mule's name." Onaha announced, walking into the room to hand out the mugs of coffee she was holding. "He's a guard dog; he should have a manly name like Rocky or Butch."

"She." Jeff announced as the dog rolled onto her back, inviting him to rub her belly. "She is definitely a she…"

"Muffin…"

"Sasha."

"Godiva."

"Daisy."

Onaha rolled her eyes and closed the door behind her, silently trying to work out where she could find a dog bed at that hour of the night on an island in the middle of the pacific…


End file.
